Prisoner of War
by ShiinaAoi
Summary: [AU] Many years ago, a great war devastated the land and left whatever remained in constant turmoil. Kal-El, last son of the great House El, is fostered unknowingly by the lesser House Kent. He dreams of one day serving in the royal guard by Princess Lang's side, but that all changes when Lady Lane is sent to be a hostage of the King.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"So this is what remains of all your struggles, Jor-El."

A man knelt upon the smoldering floor of a once grand hall, his body wounded and bleeding. Before him stood another who held nothing but contempt and disdain behind his dark eyes. He wore a heavy, ornate armor signifying his status as a ranking military officer, while his counterpart wore the robes of high nobility. Both had emblazoned on their chests the similar insignias of their respective houses, a relic of once friendlier relations. The two were alone, but all around them were the sounds of distant screams and explosions.

"Look and despair at what has been wrought by your foolishness," the latter man sneered, "Countless lie dead and for what? Your pride?"

Jor-El winced and struggled to focus his blurring vision. He couldn't let go, not yet. Not until he was sure Lara and their son had safely managed to escape.

"Zod…" he pleaded, "Open your eyes... Look at what has become of you, of our people. He's changed us. Turned us against each other. If we do not stop him, many more will perish in the wars to come."

"Your traitorous lies are deaf upon my ears," Zod scoffed, "The king is our chosen ruler. You saw it yourself the gods gave their blessings during the coronation."

"If he is then why does famine and plague befall the land? Why have our brethren been kidnapped and enslaved?"

"He is leading us to a new era. Sacrifices must be made."

"He's leading us to destruction! Look deep into your heart and tell me you do not see the evil that has befallen Krypton."

"Enough!" Zod roared, marching menacingly towards the scientist. But Jor-El was undeterred.

"What happened to your honor? Your love for our people?" he continued, rising to his feet with great effort.

"Do not speak to me of honor," Zod seethed as he seized Jor-El by the collar, lifting him several feet off the ground, "A man with honor would not have stolen from the kingdom, nor would he have killed his queen and slain his prince in his crib. Confess to your crimes!"

"I only did what was right," Jor-El hissed through clenched teeth.

"Confess now," Zod demanded again, "Tell me where you have hidden the orb and the king will spare your wife and heir."

"They're already gone, far from your reach," Jor-El coughed. By now Lara should have taken the orb and Kal safely to the ship.

"Oh?" Zod smirked, "Is that what you think?"

The general released his grip on the scientist, who fell to the floor unceremoniously gasping for breath. He clapped his hands loudly and the door to the hall was suddenly forced open. Several of his troops stormed in, dragging the limp body of a woman clad in robes that matched Jor-El's.

At this, his eyes widened in fear. All color drained from his face and he felt a coldness spread through his veins.

"Lara!" he screamed and rushed to her side, "NO!"

She was burned and bruised badly. Her breaths were ragged and her face contorted in pain.

"Lara," he whispered desperately, cupping her face with his hands. He saw her struggle to form words but managed only airy gasps. He shushed her and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

Zod was perplexed to see only one prisoner.

"Commander Faora," he muttered, "What of Jor-El's son?"

"Lady Lara has hidden him," a woman replied as she knelt before her general, "The rest of our troops are scouring the rest of the castle as we speak."

Zod's face fell into an irritated grimace, but no matter. He still had Lara as leverage. Kal-El was merely an infant, and the entire castle was surrounded. Sooner or later they would find whatever cupboard he was stashed away in, and even if he could not be located then they would simply burn everything to the ground.

"Your wife is alive," Zod said as he circled them, "And you can ensure she will continue to live if you comply. Tell us where you've put the orb."

Jor-El remained silent, focused only on Lara. Weakly, she gestured to the sky, and then he understood.

"What was that gesture?" Zod barked furiously. He seized Lara from Jor-El and held a dagger to her neck.

"This is your last warning!" he roared, pressing the knife hard enough to draw blood. His eyes grew red and hot. His own troops recoiled at the intensity of his wrath, "Continue to defy us and I will slit your wife's throat before your eyes! I will find your son and burn him in front of you! Your household will be razed to the ground! Do you hear me?!"

A tense silence passed.

Jor-El finally looked up and met Zod's rage with an intense glare of his own. Instead of a broken, defeated man, Zod saw only defiance and strength.

"You won't," Jor-El growled, "You never will."

He glanced one last time at Lara who closed her eyes in understanding and shifted to a peaceful expression.

A blinding white light suddenly erupted from beneath them. Zod and his troops screamed as a heat hotter than the sun spread throughout their bodies. It felt as if they were being ripped to shreds, cell by cell.

"Make a better world than ours, Kal," Jor-El whispered before he too was consumed by the light.

* * *

Lady Martha Kent accompanied her husband as they strolled wordlessly along the outskirts of their land. Normally they conversed mirthfully with one another, but today the air between them was somber and listless. The few farmers who they encountered bowed their heads in respectful silence.

Earlier this year there had been much cause for celebration as Lord and Lady Kent had finally been graced with a child after trying for so many years. However, a week before the much anticipated delivery date, Lady Martha's pregnancy took a turn for the worse. Lord Jonathan had called upon countless physicians and midwives who tended to her round the clock… but ultimately it was all for naught. Their baby was delivered stillborn, and they were told she would no longer be able to bear children.

Even their crops this year bore very little, Martha noted bitterly. She blinked away the tears that threatened to form and tried to banish such thoughts from her mind.

They continued this way for quite some time, but in a sense Martha was grateful for it. Nothing was said, but nothing needed to be said. They shared the same grief.

Jonathan gazed tenderly at his wife and placed an arm securely round her shoulders, prompting her to sigh and rest her head against his. For the past few weeks he had been beside himself with anxiety, teetering on the edge of madness. When news came of their child's fate, an unimaginable darkness overcame him… but the only thing that had kept him from descending completely was Martha. She was his rock, his link to humanity. The fact that she still lived convinced him there was still good in this world, and for those reasons he would continue to stay strong. For her.

"Look," his soft voice was the first to break the silence, "The tulips have finally bloomed."

They happened upon a small field full of the flowers, their buds just barely opened. Martha closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in their clean aromas and the fresh, wet earth.

Some nights following the stillbirth, a great hailstorm had suddenly manifested with little to no warning. It was unlike anything the kingdom of Metropolis had ever seen before: thunder that rattled you down to your bones and fiery rocks that beat upon the land. At one point the ground quaked so hard Martha had been sure the estate would collapse. Then, just as quickly as it started, it had stopped. A gentle rain fell after that, extinguishing the flames.

The kingdom was in an uproar the next morning. Many thought the storm a sign from the gods. Some believed it was a grave warning while others saw it as a promise of a great thing yet to come.

As for Lord and Lady Kent, they did not know what to make of the storm. At the very least, they were grateful that they and members of their estate had not been harmed.

Jonathan knelt to pluck a tulip for his wife.

"Perhaps that storm was a blessing after all," Martha offered him a small smile as he tucked the flower behind her ear.

Jonathan's face warmed, elated that she had smiled for the first time in weeks. He watched her but then became perplexed when her expression changed to confusion.

"Jonathan, what's that?" Martha took a tentative step forward, squinting her eyes at what looked like a small crater off in the distance.

A sense of urgency rush began rushing through her veins as she felt herself walking faster and faster towards the strange crater. Something was compelling her towards it, but she knew not what. Her ears scarcely heard Jonathan calling after her as she picked up her skirts and began running.

"Martha!" Jonathan shouted, but she did not stop. What on earth had gotten into her?

He had caught up to her just as she arrived at the edge of the crater. Both froze at the sight before them.

"What…?"

There, laying before them was a strange, ovoid structure with foreign markings neither could recognize. It looked to be made of stone or metal, Jonathan was not sure what.

As they peered curiously at the object, they heard a small cry.

"A baby?" Martha gasped.

Before Jonathan could take any action, she lowered herself into the crater, uncaring of the mud ruining her dress.

"Martha! Be careful!" Jonathan cursed as he climbed down after her.

She placed her hands upon the structure. There was a great rumble as the crevices of the structure began to glow and emit steam. Martha yelped and leapt back into Jonathan, who steadied her. They watched in awe as the structure broke open, revealing to them an infant, crying and red-faced.

"Heavens!" Martha exclaimed and rushed to hold the babe, "You poor, sweet thing. Where did you come from? Who left you here?"

Jonathan stared dumbfounded at the scene before him, unsure of what to make of it all. He approached his wife and the strange infant hesitantly.

As she cradled the baby it began to calm, hiccuping as it gazed up at her with eyes that were impossibly blue. He was beautiful, she thought.

"Martha…" Jonathan realized what was happening and cleared his throat, "We can't take him back with us."

She turned towards him with a worried expression, "And what would we do instead? Just leave him here?"

"Dear, he must have a family. Maybe they're looking for him."

"Look at what we found him in. Does this look like anything that could be placed by accident? Whoever left him put him here on purpose, on our land to find."

Jonathan saw how her eyes glanced briefly up at the heavens and shifted uncomfortably.

The Kents were a noble house, though of lesser status, but still noble all the same. As such, they could not simply adopt any random babe they found left in a field. Society placed great emphasis on the purity of trueborn blood relations, and to give a title unto a child who had none was seen as an insult to the nobility.

"He was probably left here by parents who could not afford to care for him any longer," he reasoned, "He needs to be taken to an orphanage."

Martha gave him a look that shot down such notions.

"We have prayed for a son for so many years now," she said, "Perhaps he is finally the answer we have been seeking. We lost our firstborn, but now another has appeared before us. This is fate, Jonathan."

Jonathan's heart clenched when he saw how fondly his wife gazed down at the child. She had wanted to be a mother for so long… how could he take this from her after what had happened?

"I don't know what it is, but I feel we were destined to have him."

"Maybe…"

The baby turned towards him wide-eyed and curious, smiling and reaching up towards him. Jonathan felt his resolve begin to shatter. Martha studied the swirling of emotions on her husband's face. He felt it too.

"What should we name him?"

"... Clark," Jonathan said, after a brief pause.

Martha beamed, "I like that."


	2. Chapter One

**A/N:** Hello! Welcome to the second installment, or the first chapter. I worked on this instead of studying for an exam I have tonight, haha. Oh the things we do to avoid studying.

Anyways, since I didn't write an author's note last time, I'll do it here. It's been a while since I've watched any Smallville, so apologies if there's some OOC or inaccuracies. I'll try to keep everything as faithful as I can to their destinies, etc, except with a few artistic liberties as you will see ;). Another note, I'll also be cutting a few characters, because I'm one person not a team of writers so I can't keep track of all the characters from the show lol. But most of the main ones will be here, like Clark, Lois, Lex, Chloe, Lana, Jimmy, Oliver... so I hope you enjoy it all the same!

Also, just warning you now, the first few chapters might be a bit slow with no Lois until later. Gotta set things up, y'know? So sorry all my fellow Clois fans, but when she shows up hopefully it will be all the more rewarding! Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter One**

It was a particularly beautiful day today, Lady Martha thought as she strode along the groves lining the manor. She nodded her approval at a servant presenting her with a basket of plump, red apples. These would surely be a pleasing gift for Princess Lang's name day celebration.

House Kent held domain over a modest plot of land that consisted mainly of farms. Though their estate was not as grand and spacious as those of the many of the other lords who lived near the capitol, Lord Kent's family had been blessed with aptitude for agriculture. They certainly made the best of what they had been given, and their crops were among the best in all of Metropolis.

But despite how sought after their crops were, the size of their dominion limited how much of a profit could be turned. Most of their harvest was kept to sustain the estate, and another sizable amount was paid to the crown as vassal tax, leaving little left to provide for other needs. Oftentimes even the Kents themselves would assist in laboring the farms to further reduce costs, which was rather polarizing given that lords and ladies usually saw such acts as beneath them. But Martha and Jonathan ignored the rumors. There was no shame in tending one's own lands, as they often told Clark.

She thought fondly of how he would come running up from the fields with several huge baskets hoisted over his broad shoulders, eager to show off how much he had gathered that day.

He would be twenty this year, she noted. Heavens… how the time had passed.

She remembered the very first night after they had taken him in. It was difficult for him to breathe, and each little sound seemed to cause him endless pain. Night after night she and Jonathan stayed by his crib, fretting endlessly. He cried so much everyone was sure he would pass, but Lord and Lady Kent refused to give up. And thankfully, neither did Clark. Slowly, he grew stronger. The pain still returned occasionally in episodic fits, but they were always able to coach him through them. Soon, he had learned to crawl. Then, he learned to walk. And before long, he was running and leaping and swimming like any other boy.

... Except for the fact that he was unlike any other boy.

It had been quite the shock coming to grips with their son's many "talents". They found out about his gifts very early on.

Their first indication came when they awoke to find a toddler Clark lifting their bed to fetch a ball that had rolled underneath. That had been quite the eventful morning.

Then there had been the time when Jonathan was riding off to the capitol, and Clark decided to run after him, overtaking his father's steed in two seconds flat.

Not to mention shortly after his thirteenth birthday, he began to have dreams that nearly burned the estate down. Three separate times.

Martha shook her head, willing those memories away lest she be stuck for hours recounting all the different examples of her son's superhuman nature.

Each day she thanked the gods for sending Clark to them. Jonathan was not a very superstitious man, Martha was convinced that some divine force had been responsible for their fateful encounter. It had to be, she was sure of it, especially given his abilities.

Besides all that, Clark had grown into an exceptionally handsome young man. He was tall, and his body was built with such immense fortitude and strength. His complexion was a healthy, sun-kissed peach, and his eyes sparkled with a mesmerizing blue luster. His features were sculpted and firm yet still retained a boyish sort of softness, which expressed his kind and gentle nature. There was scarce a girl he encountered who did not eventually become enamored with him.

But for all his perfections Clark turned out to be rather dense when it came to matters of the heart. Martha smiled mirthfully. Jonathan was very much like that when he was younger, too.

There was only one who held her son's heart. He never once admitted it outright, but she knew. There was not a soul in the entire Kingdom of Metropolis who did not see how the formidable Lord Clark Kent tripped and stammered in the presence of Princess Lana Lang. How fortunate that today was her name day celebration.

Speaking of which, where was her son?

"Peter, have you seen Clark?"

"No, milady," the farmer shook his head politely, "But I believe Lord Kent is over there inspecting the plums. Perhaps he is with him?"

Continuing up the lane, Martha was dismayed to find her husband in the grove of trees alone.

"Jonathan!" she called exasperatedly, "Have you seen Clark? I cannot find that boy anywhere."

Lord Kent opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a sudden gust of wind.

"Here I am!"

Martha screamed as a young man manifested before her. Jonathan caught his wife's stumble and looked expectantly at his soon.

"Clark," he tutted, "How many times have we told you not to do that?"

"Apologies, father," the younger lord smiled sheepishly, "Mother seemed to have urgent business with me so I rushed over."

"Where have you been?!" Martha huffed after she managed to compose herself.

Clark's face flushed a healthy shade of crimson.

"I wanted to pick a few things personally for Princess Lang," he said shyly, running a hand through his disheveled, raven locks.

"That's fine, dear, but Hessie has been waiting for you all morning. Do you plan to attend Princess Lana's name day looking like _that_?"

Martha pointed at Clark's attire, which was wrinkled and smeared with dirt from whatever he had been doing earlier. Several straws of hay poked out through his hair, and he smelled none too fresh either.

Hessie was their main housekeeper and Martha had instructed her to groom Clark especially well today. But the poor woman had been unable to fulfill her duty since the younger lord was nowhere to be found.

Clark looked mortified. He had been so preoccupied trying to prepare the perfect gift for Lana that he had not thought about looking his best for her name day.

"Sorry!" he said, "I'll go right now!" before zooming off towards the manor.

"Clark! We told you not to do that anymore!" they yelled after him, but it was of little use since he was already far gone.

"Whatever are we going to do with that boy," Martha mused.

"He's gotten faster and stronger," Jonathan's face fell into a frown, "But also more impulsive. He needs to learn to control himself better."

For the past twenty years they had somehow managed to keep his powers a secret, which was nothing short of a miracle. Especially when he was younger and had absolutely no control over his abilities, but thankfully he had also been much weaker. What a headache it had been trying to convince all the house staff that all the random freak occurrences were nothing to be afraid of. It was only a year or two after he reached puberty did his powers begin to evolve explosively, and it seemed he was still developing new ones.

"Come, let us not worry of such things for now," Martha took her husband by the arm, "Today is a day for festivities, after all."

"Right," Jonathan smiled, and together they set off towards the manor

* * *

The city was alight with cheer and boisterous laughter. Throngs of people danced and drank merrily from great barrels of ale King Luthor had provided for his step-daughter's celebration. Clark gazed upon the scenery with excitement as he rode ahead on his own steed. He didn't like sitting in the carriage very much and preferred to have the wind upon his face.

Rarely did he ever visit the capitol, since House Kent was not very large and of little consequence, so they never had much business in the capitol. But each time he did visit he found himself enthralled with the liveliness of its streets. The markets were always bustling with merchants and traders from all parts of the land, and all different kinds of people intermingled with one another. While he did appreciate the quiet tranquility of Smallville, it could not compare to how invigorating Metropolis was. He reckoned one would never be bored here.

Their procession moved slowly among others on the main road leading straight to the castle, a large and looming structure far in the distance. The city was shaped roughly like a diamond, with the main gates at the southernmost tip and the castle at the northernmost. Immediately to the east of the castle and spanning outward were the garrisons and barracks housing the royal army as well as training and sparring grounds. Clark had heard there would be a tournament held there in a few hours. The westernmost side was flanked by a vast sea leading to various other islands and territories. Metropolis was not the only kingdom in the world, but at the moment it was the most powerful.

Its King, Lionel Luthor, was the third in the Luthor dynasty to rule over Metropolis. Ever since as far back as anyone could recall, these lands had constantly been teetering back and forth between peace and conflict. Legend had it that there had once been a great empire before Metropolis, before mankind had even settled these grounds, yet it was seemingly wiped off the face of the earth by a cataclysmic event. Krypton, they had called it. A legendary society whose nobility possessed immense beauty and talent, but these blessings were also their curse. They had made an unholy pact with a great, dark force for their gifts and then paid the price... But these were all stories told by grandparents to their grandchildren, presumably exaggerated with each telling.

There had never been any proof found for the existence of these so-called Kryptonians and their empire. They were likely just myths made up as a way to scare younger generations into listening to their elders, else another "cataclysmic event" would befall them. The more accepted truth was that several tribes had settled these lands at the same time and each had been fighting for control ever since. Each generation seemed to be ruled by a different family, and it was only recently under the Luthors that kingdom was finally able to experience some semblance of stability.

Although, that stability did not come without a price. King Lionel was intelligent but manipulative and ruled with an iron fist. He often adopted many policies that were divisive, but to him "the ends justified the means". Despite that though, the people were tired of fighting. Many bit their tongues and bore with it. So long as they had food and roofs over their heads then they were content.

After some time, they finally reached the castle, whereupon they were engaged by another carriage that would take them to the tournament grounds. The Kents' carriage bearing the gifts were to be delivered to the castle first so that they could be presented to the princess during the her feast later tonight. Clark declined and followed along on his own steed.

"My, there seem to be nearly three times the attendants than last year!" Martha remarked as her son helped her down from the carriage.

"Lots of young men, it would seem," Jonathan remarked, "Perhaps given that it's the princess's twentieth name day, they've all come hoping to court her."

Clark clenched his jaw and swallowed thickly. While he certainly hoped that was not the case, subconsciously he knew it to be true. The princess was a woman of marriageable age now. Given her status, a man would be an idiot not to court her. And it pained him because though he was nobility, his house could never compare with the dukes and other higher born noble men.

Princess Lana Lang was not the King's true born daughter. Instead, she was the daughter of the late Duke Lewis and Duchess Laura Lang, who were both killed by the great hailstorm many years ago. Afterwards she was fostered by her aunt Lady Nell Potter, sister to the late countess. For a while she lived quite literally next door to Clark, since House Lang's territories bordered Smallville. They were childhood friends and played often, which were some of the happiest times of Clark's life, until shortly before Lana's fourteenth name day.

Lady Nell had caught the attentions of King Lionel, and after a brief courtship they were wed. Lana was then adopted into the royal family and formally crowned princess, with all the rights and privileges of a true born princess except for the ability to inherit the crown. That went exclusively to Lionel's son from his first marriage, Prince Alexander Luthor.

Afterwards, Clark saw very little of her, and it pained him.

"Lady Chloe! Lord Gabriel!"

He heard his father wave over to two figures walking cheerfully towards them.

"Jonathan!" Lord Gabe Sullivan clapped his friend heartily on the back, "How have you been? Lady Kent, beautiful as always. And Clark, my boy! How healthy you look!"

"Thank you," Clark grinned as the man tousled his hair. Beside him, his daughter Lady Chloe Sullivan rushed forward and pulled the Kents into a hug.

"It's so good to see you all again!" she beamed, "I've missed you!"

"We've missed you too," Clark laughed. After they pulled apart, Gabe immediately engaged Jonathan and Martha on recent happenings within the capitol. Clark and Chloe decided to let them discuss their business. He offered her his arm which she took and the both of them went to find seats for the tournament.

"Your father seems to have much to talk about," Clark remarked.

"Oh always," Chloe smirked.

Lord Gabriel Sullivan was Minister of Agriculture to King Luthor, and since the Kents were keen on farming they always had much to discuss. That is how Clark became acquainted with Chloe. Besides her, Clark's only friend was Lord Peter Ross, another noble of lesser stature whose family shared a long history of friendly relations with House Kent. Pete was probably preparing for the tournament at the moment, since he was a squire to Sir Walter Arnold. He was the youngest of five children, so as a result he entered knighthood training as a way to earn himself honor and status since he was farthest down the line of inheritance for House Ross.

In a way, Clark was jealous of Pete's becoming a knight, something he secretly wanted for himself.

"I wonder if we can see Pete from here," Chloe mused, "Probably not, since Sir Walt has him on a short leash. That man is so hot-headed. I've heard he can literally set things aflame with his eyes."

"That's ridiculous," Clark said, though not unaware of how ironic such a statement was coming from him. But Chloe didn't know about his powers.

"Look who it is!" a sneer interrupted their conversation.

The pair's attention focused on two knights strolling arrogantly towards them. Chloe frowned.

"Lord Clark of Smallville!" the knights smirked, "Lady Sullivan!"

"Sir Whitney, Sir Dustin," Clark nodded politely in acknowledgement. Chloe pursed her lips and tightened her grip on Clark's arm. These knights were always up to no good when it came to Clark. They both hailed from greater houses and liked to belittle those below them, which unfortunately meant Clark.

"Will you be attending the tourney today?" Sir Whitney smirked, "Or do you need to hurry back to your crops before then? Perhaps your mother's got you tending the chickens instead?"

"Watch your words..."

"Or what, Lord Farmsville?" Sir Dustin snickered.

"You and little Lady Sullivan going to team up on us?"

Chloe growled under her breath. Clark fought back the purge to put them both in their place. Threatening him was fine, he could take it, but he could not stand when they targeted those close to him.

Before the situation could escalate any further, Sir Dustin stiffened and elbowed Sir Whitney in the ribs, motioning to a figure approaching from behind Clark and Chloe.

"Princess Lang!" Sir Whitney announced as she reached the group.

Clark tensed and Chloe observed how his cheeks grew red. Oh boy, here we go, she thought. He was going to turn into a love-sick puppy again and ignore her. Chloe had nothing against the princess, they were actually friends. She just hated how Clark had tunnel vision when it came to her.

"Allow me to extend my best wishes to you on this joyous day," Sir Whitney said before producing a rose, "A gift for you, your highness."

"Thank you," Lana smiled.

Seeing how they could no longer continue their teasing, the atmosphere grew tense and awkward.

"We must go prepare for the tournament," Sir Whitney bowed, "Excuse us, princess. Lady Sullivan."

"Farm boy," Sir Dustin remarked quietly but loud enough for Clark to hear. As soon as they were out of earshot, Clark released a breath he had not known he was holding.

"Good riddance," Chloe stuck her tongue out after them.

"Princess Lang," Clark said and bowed deeply.

"Clark, you can drop the formalities," Lana giggled, "We are friends, after all."

A smile alighted on his face upon hearing that.

"As you wish, Lana."

Chloe rolled her eyes.

"I will go ahead and find us seats," Chloe said but doubted Clark was really listening, "And a pleasure to see you again, your highness."

Once they were alone, Clark felt his cheeks redden further. He hoped Lana would not notice.

"I was not sure you would be attending," Lana said, "But I'm happy you came."

"Of course," Clark's heart swelled, "I would not miss your name day celebration for the world."

She smiled.

They talked for a little while, making some small conversation on what had occurred in their lives since the last time they saw each other a year ago.

Lana was the love of his life. He remembered the first time he saw her. She was pretty, so pretty, he thought. When she introduced herself, she was gentle, quiet, and demure. The perfect embodiment of a lady. When he was with her, he felt peaceful, and didn't have to worry about the challenges his life presented. Lana didn't know about his powers despite how close they had been when they were younger, Clark made sure of that. He didn't want her to be frightened by them and treat him like a monster. For the time being, he was happiest like this.

* * *

"Finally broke out of your trance?" Chloe remarked as a certain young lord took a seat on her left, between Lady Martha and Lord Jonathan. To her right sat her father.

"What?" Clark blinked, perplexed.

"Where have you been?" Martha chided, "The tournament is just about to start."

"Apologies, mother," Clark said sheepishly and snuck a glance over at the royal box, where Lana was also being scolded by Queen Nell for nearly being tardy to her own name day tournament.

"You look happy, dear sister," Prince Lex remarked as she sat on the plush chair beside him, "What were you up to?"

"Catching up with an old friend," Lana replied.

"Was it Sir Kent?"

She looked up, surprised.

"How did you know...?"

"He's the only one you speak fondly of," Lex smiled knowingly. He knew much about Lord Clark of House Kent from the stories Lana had told him over the years. Anyone who made his adoptive sister happy was a friend in his eyes.

Despite Lana's popularity within the kingdom, she only had a handful of acquaintances who she considered close friends. She learned early on that most who approached her only wanted to take advantage of her associations or lusted after her because of her looks. It had been difficult for her to adjust at first. King Lionel seemed to hold little regard for her, and Nell's constant obsession over Lana's image made it difficult to communicate with her adoptive mother. She never asked for such a life and struggled to fight back the dark thoughts that came from having to suddenly bear all these changes. Lex had been the only one in the castle to greet her with warmth and sincerity.

He might have been lonely being an only child in such a big castle, she noted, so perhaps that was the source of his eagerness in welcoming her.

"Yes," Lana said, "We had much to talk about."

"You must regale me with them later."

"I will, dear brother."

A trumpet sounded, signaling for the crowd to quiet down. A man stood on a pedestal before the royal box, announcing the occasion and all the events that were to take place during the tournament.

"Look, there's Pete with Sir Walt!" Chloe whispered and pointed to two figures at one end of the tourney grounds.

"He does not look very happy," Martha said.

"He's never been a very happy man when it comes to tournaments," Jonathan frowned, "Obsesses too much over his records."

Clark narrowed his eyes at the way Sir Walt yelled at Pete. Using his enhanced hearing, he could hear what was being said, or rather shouted.

"How many times have I told you not to screw up securing my armor?!" Sir Walt spat.

"Apologies, my lord, I tightened it according to how you wished-"

"If it falls off during the tournament I will have your head! If I am victorious this will be my tenth win. No other knight has ever won so many, and I will not stand for it if I lost because some silly squire could not tie my armor right!"

Clark frowned and shook his head. Pete sure had much more patience than he did.

The tournament began shortly thereafter to much excitement. The attendees cheered when their favorite knights championed over their foes and moved through the ranks. Luckily for Pete, Sir Walt had managed to win all his match ups, though Clark noted skeptically how they all seemed to be staged against newer or weaker nights. Surely that tactic would falter as soon as he got to the final match ups. He couldn't cheat his way out of that.

As the tourney progressed, Clark found himself divided between watching it and sneaking glances at Princess Lang. She was engrossed in conversation with Lex, who whispered things that made her face brighten with laughter. His chest clenched. What he wouldn't give to be there right now.

Out the corner of his eye, he saw a minister rush hurriedly towards the royal box. Curious, Clark listened in. The man approached the king from behind and knelt to whisper in his ear, low enough to escape the detection of the box's other occupants. Clark noticed Lex shift slightly towards them in interest, however.

"Your grace," the man murmured, out of breath.

"Not now, Dominic," Lionel waved him away. But he was undeterred.

"Your grace, it is news of urgent nature."

Frowning, the king narrowed his gaze at the man.

"We've received word that General Lane has staged a rebellion in the Eastern Valleylands."

"What?" Lionel hissed sharply.

Looking around, he noticed Nell and Lana looking surprised at him, but both turned away quickly as they knew whatever matters he and Dominic were discussing were not their business. Lex remained in the same position.

"What did you say?" Lionel seethed, lowering his voice further.

"It's in regards to your negotiations with the tribes of the Orient. He has summoned all his banner men and has the entire battalion encamped at Schwarzwald. We've sent half of our remaining soldiers to lay siege upon the fort, but I fear it will not be enough."

"That bloody bastard... Assemble my ministers for a meeting immediately following."

"Of course, sire."

Wordlessly, Lionel gathered himself and headed back towards the castle.

Clark was surprised. General Lane was not often in the capitol since he was usually off conquering or defending lands in the name of the king, so why would a man who was always loyal to the crown suddenly turn on it? Did this mean they were going to go to another war? He did not know much about General Samuel Lane, only that he was Chloe's uncle and the finest strategist in the kingdom. He was said to be one of the fiercest men in all the land. That ferocity was said to be a signature trait of the Lanes, who hailed from a long line of notable military figures. If he remembered correctly, though, from what Chloe had told him the general only had a daughter since his wife died before she could give him a son.

"Clark? Everything alright, son?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah," Clark mumbled.

He anxiously wondered what implications this would have for Chloe and her father, since they were related although by marriage not by blood. But still, if General Lane truly committed an act of treason then surely the king would seek leverage against him, and they were his only known other relations.

"Look, it's Sir Walt's turn!"

Clark's attention was then turned to the arrival of Sir Walt and Pete once again on the battlefield. Sir Walt stumbled slightly and chugged the remainder of what looked like wine from his goblet.

"Gods, how much did the man drink?" Lex grimaced, "He looks like a bloated pig bursting out his armor."

"The straps are too tight!" Sir Walt slurred before throwing his goblet at his poor squire.

"My lord," Pete said, "I have not adjusted them since your last battle, when you said they were perfect."

"Well now they're not! Loosen them!"

"Please, sir-"

"Are you defying me?!" Sir Walt growled and his eyes began to glow red and hot, "Did you forget what I said about having your head if you embarrassed me?"

Pete stood stunned. Did the air grow much warmer all of a sudden?

"N-No, my apologies sir."

As Pete reluctantly stepped away, Sir Walt approached the battlefield and saw Sir Whitney standing at the other end. A horn trumpeted the match's start, and the two men lunged at each other. Sir Walt's movements were much more haggard and sloppy compared to Whitney's. The latter knight was able to easily deflect the older knight's blows and wondered incredulously how such a sub par knight made it so far in the tourney.

Walt panted as an expert blow from Whitney dispatched part of his armor. How could this be? Whitney was supposed to be the one stumbling and having troubles! Walt had been sure to have his squire place the drugged wine...

Oh bloody hells, the idiot had switched the wines!

"Sir Walt," Whitney called, "Are you surrendering?"

Walt felt his body grow furious and hot with rage. That stupid, stupid fool! He had cost him this tournament! His tenth win!

"YOU IDIOT!" Walt roared and suddenly Whitney found his cloak on fire. The audience gasped. Clark's eyes widened. Did he just see that correctly?

"What in the-?!" he screamed and ripped the garment off, his mind struggling to make sense of what just happened. "Are you hiding flint on you or something? That's against tourney regulations!"

But Walt paid him no heed, instead he stormed towards the sidelines where Pete stood staring at him with fear and confusion.

"YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!" Walt screamed and drew his sword on the young man.

Pete yelped and managed to leap out of the way as the blade struck a wooden pillar. Several people in the audience began screaming. What was going on? Why was Walt turning on his squire? Did he mean to kill him?

"What's going on?" Prince Lex yelled, rising to his feet, "Sir Walt, stop right this instance!"

But the knight ignored his prince and continued to run after Pete, swinging rabidly at him. As he did so, several structures around the tourney grounds began to burst into flames. By now the crowd was in an uproar.

"Witchcraft!" they screamed.

"He's rigged the tournament!"

Pete knew not where was running, too blinded by the adrenaline, and did not notice the overturned obstacle in front of him. He tripped and turned around just in time to avoid another blow by Walt's sword. He truly did mean to kill him! Pete crawled backwards, not knowing where he was until his back came into contact with a wall. Seeing his opportunity, Walt cornered his squire.

He roared and lifted his blade for the lethal strike.

Pete sucked in a sharp breath and braced for the impact, but it did not come.

"Clark?!"

Lana could scarce believe her eyes as he appeared out of nowhere, standing above Pete and holding Walt's arm, blocking the strike.

Martha screamed and Jonathan tensed. Chloe's eyes widened as she looked around wildly. How had he gotten over there? She hadn't even seen him move!

"The princess does not want any blood spilled on her name day," Clark said, slowly, calmly, "Please put down your sword, Sir Walt."

"Shut your mouth!" he spat, his eyes growing read and hot once more.

Realizing what was going to happen, Clark released his grip and leapt out of the way as the blast struck the wall behind him. Pete hurriedly scurried away from the smoldering debris. So it was true! Walt could shoot heat from his eyes like him! But how? In his momentary distraction, Clark had not realized Sir Walt had prepared his next strike until the blade already came swinging down.

"CLARK, NO!"

Out of reflex, his arm rose defensively and met the blade as it struck his forearm...

... And bounced right off.

Walt's rage was finally broken, and he stood stunned at the events. What? He had made contact! How...?

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Clark wasted no time in punching Sir Walt cleanly across the jaw. The older man fell backwards with a thud, unconscious and no longer a threat.

"Enough!" Lex shouted, "Take Sir Walt away."

The royal guards took a moment to snap out of their momentary shock before doing as they were told. Clark looked behind him and saw Pete sighing with relief.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," Pete said, "Thanks for helping me there."

"Of course," Clark smiled before offering his friend a hand up.

"CLARK!" Martha Kent screamed as she ran towards him, followed closely by Jonathan, Chloe, and Minister Sullivan, "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!"

"I'm not hurt, mother," Clark tried feebly to console her but knew from his father's grave look that this would not end well for him later.

"Your arm!" Chloe cried and grabbed it, searching any sign of trauma. Her expression quickly changed to confusion when she saw that the sleeve had been cut, yet his skin had not.

"It's fine," Clark withdrew the limb quickly.

"I saw Sir Walt's sword meet your boy's arm clear as day," Minister Sullivan said incredulously, "Yet not a single drop of blood spilled..."

"He wears chain mail underneath his tunic," Jonathan quickly tried to explain, "As you can see he has a knack for getting in trouble."

"But I saw none...?" Chloe raised a brow skeptically.

"Come, we can discuss later. But we must go. Now!" Martha and Jonathan took their son by each arm and hurriedly went to the carriage.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

"You almost sent the entire kingdom into a panic, you know."

Clark bristled at his father's lecturing and stared wordlessly at the floor of the carriage.

Seeing no reply from his son, Jonathan rubbed the bridge of his nose exasperatedly.

Luckily he had managed to diffuse the situation at the tourney grounds by explaining that Clark was wearing chain mail, hence the sword did not wound him, and Sir Walt was very inebriated so his strike was not as forceful as it looked. Many of those present also reasoned that they had probably not seen Clark arrive on the scene because they were too distracted by the actions of Sir Walt and Pete.

Though some others still had their doubts, especially Chloe, nobody could find any other satisfactory explanations and left it at that.

"What else was I supposed to do?" the younger lord retorted, "Stand by and watch as Sir Walt murdered my friend?"

"Maybe," Jonathan sighed, "Or maybe you should have waited and let the royal guard do their duty."

"But none of them did anything! Even when Prince Lex called for Sir Walt to stop, the guards were all too shocked to take any action."

"Clark, I'm not saying what you did was wrong, I'm trying to say you did not think things through clearly. You acted on your impulses before you rationalized the situation."

"There wasn't any time to think!"

"There's always time to think."

Martha looked awkwardly between her husband and her son, both of who refused to meet each other's eyes. She sighed. This wasn't the first time such an incident had occurred, although it was the first time Clark had brazenly showed his abilities in front of so many people. It was always difficult lecturing him afterwards because they all knew he was good and had only wanted to do the right thing. Reprimanding him felt wrong, but at the moment Jonathan was right. She placed a reassuring hand on Clark's shoulder.

"Sweetheart, we're just looking out for you… You saw how the crowd reacted. They weren't ready to come to grips with the thought that… that such power exists in our land."

"But you saw what Sir Walt did, didn't you?" Clark said, "He shot heat from his eyes just like I can. There are others with powers like mine!"

"And they all shouted that he was cursed and a monster..."

Clark fell silent. He recalled how the people recoiled in fear and hissed when Sir Walt began to set fire to the tourney grounds. Many believed the flames to be a trickery, caches of explosive powder left on the grounds beforehand and set alight when Sir Walt triggered sparks with his sword. Those who did suspect some metaphysical force, however, began violently demanding he be put to death.

A cold feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. But he was different, he had only tried to help. Did they not see that? Would they really view him the same as they did Sir Walt?

He had never asked for these abilities. He just wanted to be seen the same as his peers.

Or was he doomed to forever be treated like a pariah by those he only wanted to protect?

The sight of Lana's fearful express crossed his mind. She had looked so confused and... frightened...

But he wasn't a monster... was he? Didn't she know that?

Jonathan and Martha looked worried. They knew Clark was beginning to sense the gravity of his abilities and the pull, the need, to do something greater. It hurt them to see the brief spark of hope in his eyes, the belief that he perhaps wasn't as alone and abnormal as he thought, only to be painfully extinguished afterwards.

"You're not a monster, Clark," Jonathan said softly, "You have a good heart, everyone saw that today. But it just was not the right time nor the right place to reveal yourself. There will come a day when you will inspire the people of Metropolis. Your mother and I stand firmly by that belief."

Clark was silent and only offered his parents a half-hearted smile. Martha saw how a faint darkness continued to struggled behind his eyes. If only there was more they could do, but for the time being they just had to support him as best they could. The carriage slowly lurched to a halt, signaling their arrival at the castle. She was thankful for it, since the conversation needed a change of pace. Hopefully the rest of today's festivities would be able to make everyone forget about earlier.

"Come," Martha said, "Let's get you changed and cleaned up. The day isn't over yet, there's still the feast and Princess Lang's ball."

* * *

By evening, the topic of what happened at the tourney grounds was no longer a concern for most of the feast's attendees. They were now preoccupied by the lavishly decorated banquet set before them. A band of minstrels sang ballads and played jigs to which the halls' occupants danced mirthfully to, if they weren't busy with all the delicious food and drink set about the many tables lining the room. A steady stream of delectable pies, roasts, and other treats were constantly being carried out of the kitchens, and many servants made sure that the attendees' wine cups were never empty.

Clark laughed and leaned back in his seat, warm and glowing from all the wine. It had been quite a while since he had enjoyed such fine food and drink. Beside him were Lady Chloe and Lord Pete.

"So then I asked, what is the difference between a hog and Lady Linda Lake?" Chloe giggled, scarcely able to hide her amusement.

"What?" Pete and Clark asked.

"Painted lips!"

Both men roared with laughter and clutched at their sides. Clark wiped a tear from his eye and snuck a glance up at the head of the hall, where the royal family were seated except for the king who had not yet returned after he excused himself during the princess's tournament. But he had instructed them to enjoy the night without his presence, so they did.

Lana was conversing with Lex over some topic that was difficult to make out given how noisy it was in the hall.

Lex was a good prince by all accounts from those who knew him. He was of fair stature and looks, except for his head which had unfortunately lost its red hair during the great hailstorm so many years ago. Besides that, he had a very intellectual mind and was calculating in his actions, just like his father, but he hated being compared to him. He saw Lionel as cruel, callous, and manipulative, especially after he witnessed how his father treated his first wife, Lex's mother.

For that, Lex never forgave him. He often rebelled against his father's orders and sought to distance himself from Lionel's legacy by doing things his own way. In spite of his efforts, the king was always very severe on him and tried constantly to control Lex. Lionel never hesitated to punish him himself whenever the boy went awry, and many hours he had spent drilling in him policy after policy on how to properly govern a kingdom.

Most nights after his mother's death he spent alone, skulking on his bed, wishing to change the fate he was given. He didn't want to be like his father. He wanted to realize his own destiny, no matter what that may be.

The lone light in all this torment came when Lana was adopted into the royal family. She was kind and lovely, but he could see she too struggled with a different kind of darkness. Just like him. They were both individuals who found themselves in life situations they had not asked for and who strived to find ways to change their fates. It was like he wasn't so alone in this castle now. He had someone who he could protect and share in his struggles. For these reasons, he developed an affectionate sort of companionship with her.

"You look marvelous tonight," he said as he touched one of the many layers composing the skirt of her gown, "This is much more extravagant than what you usually wear."

His stepsister was a lovely young lady, but her charm was in her soft, girlish demeanor. Her figure was slender and better suited for more muted colors rather than bold ones.

"Mother insisted I wear this," she replied, "You know how she obsesses over every detail of these sorts of things."

Lex snorted. Yes, Queen Nell was certainly attentive to all matters relating to Lana, which was understandable.

"You could have worn whatever gown you liked, you know," Lex smirked, "It is your name day after all. Not Nell's. Don't be afraid to push for something you want every once in a while."

Lana smiled and thanked him. Sometimes she felt as if he was the only one who truly saw her, other than Clark, though with the latter she sometimes had doubts.

Clark was her closest childhood friend, and really her only true friend aside from Lex, but it often felt like he did not reciprocate the same level of trust. After she became princess of Metropolis, Clark distanced himself from her. They used to see each other nearly every day but now he only visited once on her name day. He wrote occasionally but too infrequently to be of much consequence, and each time his messages felt rather guarded. While the younger Lord Kent held a special place in her heart, it upset her that he possibly did not feel the same way.

Lex studied Lana's rather serious expression and wondered what currently occupied her mind. He frowned, deciding that she should not be the least bit unhappy on such a day.

"Well we can't have you sitting at this table all night," Lex rose to his feet and offered his hand, "Shall we dance?"

The princess nodded and together they set upon the floor, where they stopped to greet the many guests. Clark, Chloe, and Pete were also up and about, mingling with the other attendees, although Clark found himself standing about rather awkwardly since he did not come to court often and thus was not well acquainted with quite as many people as Chloe and Pete. He wished his parents brought him more often, but he knew they kept him in Smallville to avoid possible incidents where his secret could be exposed.

Though, he wondered if this isolation was really for the best. In situations like these it made it difficult for him to connect with his peers who already somewhat ostracized him for his status...

A familiar presence bumped into him from behind.

"Lan-!" Clark caught himself when he realized she was not alone. Clearing his throat, he began again.

"Princess Lang," he bowed, "Prince Luthor."

He was mindful to practice his best manners since he was in the presence of the prince. He did not know too much about him, other than the few stories Lana told when they met. As far as he knew, Prince Alexander was an amiable man who was always good to her, and anyone who was good to Lana was alright with Clark.

"Please," he insisted as he shook his hand, "Just Lex is fine. I've heard so much about you from my sister that I feel as if we've been friends for years already."

"Good things, I hope," Clark joked. Lana spoke about him? The thought made his heart flutter.

"Of course," Lex smiled.

"I'm glad to see you weren't sent back to Smallville," Lana returned his greeting with a curtsy.

"I am glad too, for I would have missed such a wonderful banquet!"

"Excellent. How is your injury?" the prince glanced at Clark's arm, which was concealed by a new tunic.

"Fine, I thank you," Clark smiled, "It seems Sir Walt was quite inebriated and his blow struck not as hard as I feared."

"That's good to hear," Lex said, but he still continued to regard Clark with a sort of interested expression.

While they were on the topic, Clark turned towards Lana.

"Princess, my apologies for interrupting your name day tournament. I-"

"No need to apologize," Lana interjected, "If you hadn't interfered, we might have had a different sort of disaster if Sir Walt killed Lord Ross."

"You demonstrated exemplary bravery today, Lord Kent," Lex continued, "You did not hesitate when Lord Ross was in danger even though you were unarmed. You know... we could use a man like you in the royal guard. Have you ever given any thought to joining?"

At this, Clark felt his words catch in his throat. Was the prince actually offering him a position on the guard?

The royal guard was comprised of a select group of knights sworn to protect and obey the crown at all costs. They were much more distinguished than the royal army or the city guard. The royal guard were the paradigm of honor and dignity; all members were treated with the utmost respect throughout the kingdom. Ever since Clark was a boy he had dreamed of being able to serve in their ranks. Of course many young boys dreamed of joining for the valor and the prestige, but most grew out of such dreams for more physical, materialistic pursuits. But not Clark.

To him, becoming one of the royal guard was a great honor. His powers were a gift, as his parents often said, and what better way to use these gifts for good than to join the royal guard? He could do so much, and he wouldn't have to stay shut up in Smallville. He could travel and see distant lands, all for the greater good.

Better yet, among the royal guard he would no longer be ostracized for the status of his house. All among the guard were equal, whether one came from the streets or an ancient, noble lineage.

And, being part of the guard meant he could be closer to Lana... Maybe he could even become her personal guard some day. He knew his status prevented any possibility of a serious courtship, yet if he could just be by her side, protecting her, then that would be all he would ever need in this life.

But he knew his father would not stand for it.

"Forgive me, your highness," Clark said, "I have never squired under a knight, nor received any training as a boy. I'm not sure I would be an adequate fit for the guard."

"You were raised the son of a lord," Lex replied, "You know just as much about chivalry and honor as any other in the guard. Maybe even more from what we saw today. Were you ever trained by a sword master?"

"Yes, for a short time, while I was younger, but-"

"Good! So you already know the basics. Every squire is only trained in the basics of swordplay and combat anyways, the real training comes after they swear their vows."

Clark found himself again struggling with what his heart yearned for and what his mind reasoned.

"Your highness... it would be a great honor, but I regrettably cannot. As my lord father's only heir he wishes me to remain and assist him with his lordly duties."

Gods, how it pained him to refuse such an offer, and from the prince himself no less.

"That's quite surprising," Lex raised a brow, "Since your father was once a member of the royal guard too. An exemplary one, if I recall correctly. You know, as a member of the royal guard you would be paid a salary high enough to hire a steward to assist your father in your absence. Several handmaidens for your mother as well, perhaps?"

"Prince Alexander!" a charming man with golden hair bowed as he approached the trio. He wore a rather regal outfit made of a deep, green velvet and gold trimming. He then took the princess's hand and kissed it in greeting, "Princess Lang, many blessings for your name day. And lord...?"

"Duke Queen, glad you could attend my sister's ball," Lex clapped him on the back, "This is Lord Clark of House Kent, the liege lords of Smallville. Lord Clark, this is Duke Oliver of House Queen, heir to Star City."

If Clark remembered correctly, Star City was a territory to the east of Metropolis. It was once a sovereign nation until King Lionel brought it under Metropolis's jurisdiction following the death of the former Duke and Duchess Queen. Many resented this ruler they saw as foreign but were forced to accept in order to avoid being forcefully subjugated. For the most part Lionel allowed them to be ruled independently under Duke Oliver, but they were still ultimately subject to demands from the crown when the time came. They still had to provide men for the royal army, crops and goods for the capitol, and pay heavy taxes to a ruler who many had never met. But it was a small price to pay instead of war, Lionel had said.

"A pleasure," Oliver flashed him a radiant smile, "Prince Lex, I was wondering if we could discuss in private the matter I corresponded with you about last month?"

Lex's smile fell slightly. He was quite enjoying the festivities, but business was business. "Of course. A moment, please."

He then turned to Clark, "The current generation of royal guard recruits will be swearing their vows in a couple month's time. I'd give it some thought, hm?"

The prince then bent to plant a small kiss on his sister's cheek before departing with Duke Oliver. His words resonated with Clark, who willed himself not to entertain such fantasies. When he focused again on reality, his cheeks reddened as he found himself left alone with Lana. The two shuffled awkwardly, not knowing what to say. The minstrels then began a ballad and couples gathered to dance. Lana studied the young lord who became rather nervous and tense when the song began. She wondered if he was uncomfortable in her presence.

"Would you like to dance, Sir Kent?" she said, attempting to break the frigidity between them.

"A..." Clark was taken aback, "A-Absolutely!"

Hesitantly, he offered her his hand and led her towards the dance floor. On the way he stumbled over the train of another lady's gown. He whispered an apology to the offended woman and hunched his shoulders in embarrassment. Lana laughed and tried to ease his mortification.

The beginning was a bit messy as they tried to match each other's rhythms, but eventually they managed to find a suitable albeit rocky cadence. Clark did not dance much. For a little while they continued in silence, since he was too mesmerized by the fact that he was dancing with her to think of any conversation.

"You know," Lana began, "If you became a member of the royal guard, you would come live here in the castle."

And he would be able to see her nearly every day.

"Would you like it if I did?" Clark ventured, unsurely.

"Well, you wouldn't be able to avoid me anymore," she smirked.

Clark raised a brow, perplexed, "I don't avoid you."

"Really?" she teased, "Then why do you only come see me on no other days except my name day?"

"I..."

He knew not how to respond.

"We used to play together almost every day when we were younger. Do you remember that?" Lana sighed, "Then after my mother wed the king, I told you that you could always come visit me at the castle, yet you never did."

Clark bit his lip and looked down. So she still didn't remember. In a way, he was grateful, but it still saddened him.

Six years ago, before Nell had married Lionel, Clark and Lana were inseparable. They were only fourteen but he had already confessed his love for her, and she reciprocated to his immense joy. Many a night they spent looking up at the stars dreaming of a future together. Clark believed he had finally found the one who could accept him for who he was, secrets and all.

So, against the wills of his parents, he told Lana his secret. At first, she was confused and hesitant, which briefly drove him to panic, but her worries eased and were instead replaced by curiosity. She asked to see a display of his powers, to which he obliged. He could never deny her anything.

Lana had placed her utmost trust in him when she wrapped her arms around his neck. Clark was nervous but determined to impress her. He used his still developing super speed, leaping from roof to roof, tree to tree, climbing greater and greater heights. The young lord was eager to show her his life, what he was capable of, and the exhilaration he felt when using his powers.

For Lana, the experience was both nerve-wracking and exciting. She was in awe of his capabilities, but she was not used to it and struggled to hold on.

Clark remembered vividly the moment her fingers lost their grip. He could still feel the horrible coldness overtaking his being as he watched her plummet to the ground, screaming in fear. He raced after her, but he was not yet fast enough to save her.

Jonathan and Martha found him not long after, sobbing and clutching at Lana's unconscious form.

For the next several days Clark had refused to visit Lana's bedside even as she teetered between life and death. He could not will himself to face the consequences of what he had done to her. The guilt was too much.

Fortunately, the gods were merciful, and eventually Lana regained consciousness. She had no recollection of the incident, nor of Clark's confessions, which he took as a sign. From that day forth, he resolved to protect her from the truth of his powers, from himself, since he had harmed her once. He could not bear the thought of endangering her again.

"I had duties to take care of in Smallville," he mumbled. A poor excuse.

Lana smiled an empty smile.

"We all have duties, don't we?" her voice grew distant, "Things everyone expects from us... Me, Crowned Princess Lang of Metropolis, and you, future Lord Kent of Smallville... Life would be so much easier if we could just leave those responsibilities behind, wouldn't it?"

Clark shifted uncomfortably.

"Maybe..." he lied. He above all knew that was impossible.

Once again the conversation fell into silence, albeit this time a much more forlorn one. Lana rested her head against his shoulder, and Clark reached up to rub her back comfortingly.

"Those apples were delicious, by the way," Lana murmured.

Clark was surprised, "You already tried them?"

"When I heard they came from the Kents, of course I had to," she beamed.

He smiled as well, "I'm glad you liked them."

"And the flower arrangement was very beautiful, too."

So she had figured out they were from him after all, he noted happily.

Even if they could not go back to how things were, at least they had this moment. Even though they could not be together, at least he could continue to watch her from afar.

Prince Lex's earlier offer echoed in his mind.

... And perhaps, gods willing, he would soon be able to use his powers to protect her this time around.

* * *

The next several weeks passed by rather uneventfully. Jonathan and Martha carried on tending to their land, business as usual, but they took notice of their son's recent, strange behavior. Ever since Princess Lang's name day he had become withdrawn and contemplative. They wanted to ask what was wrong but decided to let him come to them of his own will.

One night, during supper, he set down his utensils and cleared his throat.

"Father, mother," he announced, squaring his shoulders, "I... I've resolved to join the royal guard."

Jonathan and Martha were taken aback.

"Join the royal guard?" they echoed.

Clark nodded firmly.

"They are swearing their oaths next month. Prince Lex personally extended the invitation to me himself."

To refuse an offer from the crown was nigh unheard of. But it was also equally if not more dangerous to risk revealing the truth behind Clark. There were greater things at stake than just common courtesy.

Lord and Lady Kent shared a tense glance.

"Clark, we've spoken at great length why that's not possible."

"It is! I know you want me here, but Prince Lex has promised my salary would be enough to afford more staff who can assist you and mother in my absence. Besides, you yourself were a member of the royal guard once."

"That was different," Jonathan said firmly, "Our main concern-"

"I can control myself!" Clark insisted, "I've lived these twenty years without a single person having figured out my secret."

"All twenty of those years you had your mother and I to make excuses for any strange occurrences!" Jonathan countered, "It only takes one accident, Clark, and your secret will be exposed. Do you remember what happened last time your powers were revealed?"

A bitter pang flashed across the younger lord's expression, but he remained undeterred. While he was grateful for all the guidance his parents had given, this was his decision and something he wanted to stand firmly by.

"So?" he argued, "Even if they are, with these powers I could serve the the royal guard better than anyone ever has before. I can do something good and honorable with them for once."

"Son, people afraid of what they don't understand-"

"Then what?!" Clark felt his voice growing louder and angrier by the moment, "I'm tired of hiding! You always say there will be a day when everything changes, yet it's been twenty years and nothing. Maybe my fate isn't going to just drop into my lap, maybe I need to decide it myself for once. You and mother just want to keep hiding me here in Smallville doing nothing worthwhile with myself!"

"Clark!" Martha gasped.

It was then he noticed that he had ben gripping the table so forcefully the edges were crushed into splinters. Looking up, he saw how they watched him with confusion and unease. A wave of remorse washed over him. He was frightening his parents.

"Excuse me," he whispered and stormed out the dining hall.

"I'll go after him," Martha said, but Jonathan caught her wrist.

"No, let him be... I don't think we would be able to find him now even if we wanted to."

Martha looked unsurely at the door but conceded. Clark surely would have sped somewhere far away by now.

"He's right, you know," Lady Kent said softly, "He's becoming anxious. We can't protect him forever..."

"I know," Jonathan sighed, "I know one day his powers will have to be revealed to the world, and when that day comes I won't stop him. But before then I want to make sure he's able to make the right decisions."

Being part of the royal guard would rob him of his free will. He would no longer be able to make judgments for himself and would instead mindlessly follow whatever the crown commanded, even if it was not right. With Clark's abilities, that was a dangerous prospect, should King Lionel ever become privy to them.

Martha sensed her husband's apprehension and grasped one of his hands in comfort. "Have faith, dear. Clark is a good man. You raised him well. I believe he will make the right decisions."

"We," Jonathan said, smiling at her, "We raised him well."

* * *

Two month had passed since the siege began, and General Lane was giving no indication he would be relenting any time soon. Lionel cursed under his breath as he read the latest reports compiled by Dominic. Apparently the general had anticipated their movements and kept smaller reserves of his forces camped in the surrounding remote territories, so when the capitol's remaining soldiers arrived they were drawn into a trap. The general summoned his reserves to surround the siege, effectively creating a counter-siege. Now the royal army was trapped between hostile forces blocking their supply routes and a heavily garrisoned fort they had no hope of surmounting victoriously.

The man was not known as the kingdom's most brilliant commander for nothing, after all. He should have expected this.

"You let such a puny man outsmart you," a dark voice whispered from the back of king's mind.

"Shut up," Lionel hissed.

"Weak," the voice mocked, "How disappointing."

Lionel snarled and slammed his fists down upon the desk, shoulders shaking with barely concealed rage. What infuriated him the most was the amount of support General Lane had garnered for his cause. Lionel was the king! Had he not fed and provided for those soldiers? Bloody traitors, the lot of them.

How fickle and vile was the common man, to so easily turn against the figure to whom he once swore an oath of fealty. Yes General Lane was their superior, but the crown was supposed to be the one they obeyed above all.

This conflict was getting out of hand. Word had reached him that many houses in the eastern territories had declared their support for the general. If it continued to grow, then the general posed a very real threat to dismantling the Luthor dynasty, and Lionel would be damned if he was to be remembered as the king who let such a catastrophe occur.

Over the past two years General Samuel Lane had been guarding the east from invaders, which was populated by nomadic, warring tribes. Several times he had complained about conditions and petitioned for more support, which Lionel hesitated to give. So far the general had been able to defend the lands well without additional support, so what need had the general for more power?

The discontent came to a breaking point when Lionel finally brokered a deal with the tribes of the Orient, granting them safe passage in exchange for access to previously impenetrable trade routes. The general and his forces were enraged at the declaration.

"Your grace, we have fought tirelessly for years defending the crown from these marauders," the general had wrote, "And you pardoned them for their crimes without question? What of the men who died? The villagers who were raped and slaughtered? You promised these lands to your soldiers and now you give them to the enemy!"

Yes, Lionel admitted he had gone back on his word, but it was all for the greater good. They need these trade routes to bring more power, more wealth to the crown. That fool didn't know a single thing about diplomacy and politics, only his so-called "honor".

As it stood, there were only two options.

The first, he would have to mobilize as many of their reserves as he could, drafting any and all able-bodied men. This was highly time sensitive as the longer he allowed the siege to continue, the more support the general was able to rally to his cause.

The second, he would have to consider yielding to the general's demands. Give into weakness. But a king did not yield to those below him. If he showed General Lane mercy, then what was to stop the crown's other enemies from taking advantage of that?

A knock interrupted Lionel's internal debate.

"You called for me?" Lex said as he entered the chamber.

The king greeted his son with a slight nod before gesturing to the chair before him.

"Sit," he commanded.

Lex settled himself before his father and took a moment to glance at the document sprawled about his table. They were all regarding the situation at Schwarzwald.

"I hear General Lane has managed to capture our army without once having set foot out of his fort," Lex remarked rather smugly. While he did not support the rebellion in the slightest, since a threat against the crown also meant a threat to him, he did enjoy seeing his father become aggravated.

"Yes," Lionel glared, "It would seem we are surrounded by idiots these days."

Satisfied, Lex leaned back in the chair.

"So what is your next course of action?"

"You mean, what is your next course of action," Lionel re-emphasized as he turned to his son.

Lex quirked a brow in interest, "Me?"

"This incident has proven we cannot trust anyone," the king said, "We must handle it ourselves. I cannot leave the capitol, but you will act in my place. You will ride south and call upon the lords to provide more men for our army. Then you will all ride for Schwarzwald, where you will put an end to this ridiculous siege."

"And how do you suppose I act in your place if you do not give me the freedom to assess the situation as I see best?"

"Do not jest with me, boy. Do you take this threat to the stability of our legacy as a joke? I thought you better than that."

Lex's blood boiled at his father's scathing remarks but held his tongue.

"It's time for you to demonstrate your worth," Lionel barked, "You will do as I say and confront General Lane. Destroy his forces and bring me back his head. As for his daughter, Lois, you are to bring her back alive as our hostage."

"Why spare her?"

"She is the last true born heiress to House Lane, and we have seen how fierce loyalties lie to them. His men greatly outnumber ours. If we kill both, they will easily take your head in revenge, plunging this kingdom into another war. General Lane must die for his insubordination, but Lois is their future, so we can use her as leverage to prevent any future insurrections. His remaining banner men will obey us to ensure her safety."

"Fine," Lex said, annoyed, "Is that all?"

The king nodded and called out one last remark as his son departed.

"Tread carefully. Do not disappoint me."


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Lex rubbed his temples in exhaustion as the carriage lurched along the rough, country road. He had been traveling for a month now from land to land, holding council with each of the lords there in an attempt to raise an army against General Lane. The Kingdom of Metropolis had a reserve of its own forces, but he needed more soldiers since some needed to remain behind and guard the city and the other half of their forces were currently still locked in by General Lane.

He found that support for the crown was lukewarm at best, and Lex couldn't blame them. There was not a sane man in the entire kingdom who would be excited at the prospect of going to battle against one of the greatest military strategists in decades. For years the House of Lane had fought many battles in the name of the crown and it was undoubtedly these military victories that had helped to solidify the Luthor dynasty over Metropolis.

Lex needed to find another solution. No doubt that years and years of military experience had already made General Lane privy to every trick and tactic in the book, so Lex needed to think of something something nobody else would have ever seen before. But what?

His mind traveled back to the tournament during Lana's name day celebration. He remembered the beams of fire that shot from Sir Walt's eyes. Though everyone else had tried to write it off as trickery or illusions, Lex had been sitting in the front row and saw what happened clear as day. Sir Walt had done something nobody, not even their wisest ministers, had ever seen before.

If Lex could figure out what Walt had done and how Lex could harness those abilities for himself, then that would surely turn the tide of this battle against General Lane.

After the tournament Walt had been taken to the dungeons and interrogated. He awoke a few hours later in a drunken stupor claiming no recollection of the events prior. Even when Lex had applied more forceful interrogation methods Sir Walt continued to cry out his innocence. But Lex didn't believe that for one moment. Surely Sir Walt knew and was hiding his secret from him. Well, Lex reasoned, if that was the way he wanted to play this then let's see how long he will last without any food or water. Sooner or later Sir Walt will have to reveal his secrets, else he will die a slow, painful death for his insubordination.

"General Stone says he can pledge 300 more men to our service," Dominic read aloud from one of his many messenger scrolls, "They are mostly young, undisciplined trainees, but manpower is manpower."

"Manpower means nothing if each one of General Lane's men can fight with the strength of 10 of ours," Lex replied, "This is still not enough. We need something else, some other advantage beyond sheer number. Has much research progressed on Sir Walt's condition?"

"Indeed we have tried to coerce him into replicating his actions during Princess Lang's nameday but it seems he has become too weak to even stand."

"What? He still claims he doesn't know?"

"Perhaps he truly doesn't. I have never known Sir Walt to be so noble as to sacrifice his life for some secret power. However, our ministers are reporting that lately he has been raving in fevered tones about green rocks."

"Green rocks?" Lex raised a brow in interest, "Emeralds? Or something more?"

"We know not, and a search of his barrack turned up nothing."

"Green rocks," the young prince mumbled, "Perhaps... does he mean those minerals that were created during the great firestorm twenty years ago? That doesn't make sense. Many citizens of Metropolis have lived alongside those minerals for many years, even Princess Lang wears a necklace of green mineral around her neck but she does not possess any such powers."

Lex wrung his hands together as his mind worked through every possible explanation. Were those minerals really the key to some great power? If so, how would one go about accessing that power? Or did it depend on the person attempting to access said power? If so, what qualities deemed a person worthy of power? Well, this was assuming Sir Walt's fevered ranting could even be trusted in the first place. The man was delirious and half-starved, after all.

The prince and his minister sat pensively as the carriage continued back to the capital. After a while, Lex broke the silence.

"Do you believe in the existence of forces beyond our beliefs, Dominic?"

"Sir?" the minister eyed him with confusion.

"You know, what the common folk refer to as magic. Witchcraft."

Dominic scoffed, "Old wives' tales."

"Do you remember how those tales often spoke of beings known as Kryptonians?" Lex continued, undeterred, "They were a race whose civilization existed thousands of years before ours. While the rest of our ancestors were thumping twigs and stones together the Kryptonians were already accomplishing things beyond our wildest imaginations: they could lift mountains, heal wounds instantly, soar through the sky, and conjure flames by sight. It is said that they were the ones who introduced fire to mankind, after all. And how did they do these things? They must have known about the existence of forces beyond our control and learned how to harvest their power"

"The Kryptonians were a myth. Allegories created by primitive civilizations to explain natural phenomena."

"If they were a myth then how come Sir Walt had an ability that exactly matched the description of a Kryptonian ability? You say that they are nothing but old wives' tales but now I am beginning to suspect there must be some truth to those stories after all."

"Well then, if such a magnificent civilization existed then how can it be that no trace remains of their empire? Not a single artifact or record?"

"Perhaps the way they used these powers eventually made the land unstable. An imbalance of forces, per se. What was once a creative source thus became a source for destruction and tore everything apart in the great cataclysm."

Dominic struggled to keep himself from rolling his eyes. Prince Lex had an immense intellect but at this moment he sounded like an absolute lunatic.

"With all due respect, sire, I would advise you to revisit your military treatises instead of entertaining such fairy tales any longer."

Lex narrowed his eyes dangerously, "I won't have you speaking so dismissively to me, Dominic."

The carriage suddenly came to a halt. Lex hissed as his head collided with the carriage windowsill. Why had they stopped? They were still many miles off from the castle.

"What's going on out there?" Dominic shouted to the coachman, but received no reply. The hairs on his neck began to stand on end. It was far too quiet. Something was definitely wrong.

They heard loud screaming and the distressed whinnying of the horses. The carriage jolted once more as the horses flailed with panic, throwing Lex and Dominic through the carriage door and onto the road. As the men struggled to make sense of their surroundings, their eyes widened in horror. All around them were the smoldering corpses of their guards. The horses had already bolted, and the only other being in their presence was a young, emaciated looking man.

"You..." the man pointed an accusatory finger at Lex, "I remember you...! You didn't help me that day!"

"What is it you want?" Lex backed away cautiously. Honestly he had no idea who this man was and could not think of any reason he had for attacking him, other than possibly to get back at King Lionel for whatever reason. But what specifically had Lex done?

"You don't remember?" the man's tone grew angrier, incensed by the Lex's amnesia, "I was strung up helpless in that field and left to die... Yet you did nothing!"

A field? What? Lex honestly could not recall who this man was nor the field he was referencing.

"If you can't remember then I'll make you remember!" the man roared and lifted his arms to the sky. The clouds overhead grew dense and dark, as if heralding a great storm. Suddenly lightning bolts shot from the man's hands, striking Dominic. The minister cried out as his body seized from the enormous amount of electricity coursing through him. He collapsed into a smoldering heap like the other guard, his ragged breath the only indication that he still clung to life.

Lex's blood ran cold. This man was able to shoot lightning from his hands like Sir Walt had been able to shoot fire from his eyes. So there were more of these types of beings after all...!

"Do you remember now?!" the man demanded, "You saw how I was suffering yet you stood there in fear, as you are now. You left me upon that cross as the firestorm struck and nearly burnt me alive! From that day on I vowed I would find you and anyone else who had ever done me wrong, then I would make you all beg for your lives."

Wait, the fiery hailstorm that had struck Metropolis 20 years prior? His head began to throb painfully as the memories finally began to flood back to him from that fateful night so long ago. He had escaped from his father for whatever reason and had run blindly into a cornfield. There he encountered this man, emaciated and tied to a cross like a scarecrow. A red S had been painted on his chest with pigs blood. His skin was badly sunburnt and blistered, evidently having been left on that cross for some time.

 _"H-Help... me..."_

 _A six-year old Prince Lex froze at the sight before him. He had never seen anything like this before and didn't know how to react. Why was this man strung up? Was he being punished for something bad? Was whoever did this going to come back and do the same to Lex if he interfered?_

 _"I... I..." Lex shivered in fear as he backed away in fear._

 _"Why are you going away...? Don't leave me-!"_

 _It was at that moment the clouds grew dim and murky, thundering loudly. And then, with barely any warning, the fiery hailstorm began._

The man grasped Lex by the neck and lifted him off the ground. Lex gasped and clawed desperately at his arm in a futile attempt to fight the oppressive force upon his windpipe. He felt his vision begin to leave him, but before he drifted into unconsciousness he heard the man call out one last remark.

"My name was Jeremy Creek," the man sneered, "I want you to know that before I take your life."

* * *

"Clark?" Lady Martha called for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day, "Clark, honey, please come home!"

"There's still no sign of him, Lady Kent," a servant shook her head at her sadly. Martha sighed and slumped next to an apple tree.

A week had gone by since their argument and she had scarce seen neither hide nor hair of her son. She knew he was upset but she had never known him to stay away for so long. Occasionally she could feel his presence coming by to grab some food or a change of clothes, but just as soon as he arrived he would leave again in a blur. Perhaps being part of the royal guard meant something greater to him than she thought.

It wasn't as if she and Jonathan wanted to prohibit him from making his own choices, but she did concede that perhaps Jonathan hadn't fully communicated to Clark the real risks of joining the royal guard. What scared them wasn't the idea that Clark couldn't control himself or that he wouldn't use his powers for good - he knew the importance of control better than anyone.

She thought back to when he was about six years of age. Oh, life had been such a struggle for him then. His powers were beginning to manifest and there was just so much untrained potential in such a small body: he could hear every sound for many miles away, see through to the bones and organs of every man, sense so many other things that nobody else could.

 _"Lord Kent, please!"_

 _The governess screamed in terror as a young Clark hurled his desk at the unsuspecting woman._

 _"Clark, no!" Jonathan tackled her away from harm at the last moment. She had fainted from the shock but was at the very least unscathed._

 _"STOP!" Clark hissed and clutched his head, "JUST STOP!"_

 _He collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain._ _His head felt like it was going to burst at any moment. Everything was so loud and bright, he could hardly breathe with all of the sensations flooding him right now. He didn't even know where to begin making sense of it all. Why did nobody else experience this? How come he alone was to suffer?_

 _Martha and Jonathan knelt by their boy and shared a hesitant glance._

 _"Clark, sweetie, speak to us," her tone was soft and gentle, "What's going on?"_

 _"I don't know," he cried, "There's so much, everything is so loud!"_

 _The servants had crowded outside the room trying to peek through the keyhole and see what all the fuss was about. Ever since the Kents had returned with that mysterious infant, their lives had become infinitely stranger. Many swore the boy was the spawn of something unholy as they had seen him do unnatural things no other child, or human for that matter, should be able to do. The Kents had dismissed their claims or made excuses for the weird happenings around the estate, but not all were convinced._

 _"Is it young Lord Kent again? That boy is something strange."_

 _"I heard he has violent tendencies, Lord and Lady Kent should just send the boy away."_

 _"He's the child of witches I tell you," an elderly servant whispered, "He should be burned."_

 _"Burned? How could you say that about a child!"_

 _"Child or not he is trying to kill his governess! He's a monster!"_

 _Yet unbeknownst to them Clark could hear the servants hissing maliciously about him. Every single word. He had thought they were his friends, people who he could trust. And this is what they really thought? His chest felt heavy with despair and so many unfamiliar, unhappy feelings he couldn't even begin to describe._

 _"I don't want to be a monster," Clark curled into a ball and struggled to fight back the tears seeping from his eyes, "I just want to be normal...!"_

 _Martha's breath caught in her throat. His tone was so visceral, so raw, and so... dark._

 _"Shh, honey you aren't a monster," Martha reached a hand out to stroke her son's cheek, "Listen to my voice. I know there's a lot of other things going on but try to find mine and focus on it."_

 _Clark panted and squinted his eyes harder. There was still such a stormy mess of sounds and sensations in his head, but he did hear his mother's voice. He could hear her heartbeat: steady and soft, not frenzied and quickened like the servants'. She wasn't afraid of him. His shoulders began to relax a bit._

 _"Have you found my voice? Keep focusing on it, sweetie. Focus on your father's voice. Find something you can hold onto when you feel like you're drowning."_

 _Slowly, his breathing began to calm once more as the tension left his body. Yes, there was still so much going on, but they couldn't overwhelm him if he stopped trying to pay attention to or make sense of all of it. Find something to keep him steady and to focus his attention, as his mother said._

 _"Clark?" Jonathan lifted the boy into his arms._

 _"Father...?" Clark whispered weakly. He felt so exhausted._

 _"_ _There, it's alright. You're alright."_

From that day on she and Jonathan tried their best to help coach him on how to control his powers. Of course, most of the time they had no idea if what they were doing was even correct, but it seemed to work for the most part. In no time Clark's power had outgrown them and he began to learn how to control them by himself. He trained almost every day, trying to push the boundaries and discover more about himself. So what scared Martha wasn't Clark losing control over his powers. What scared her the possibility of him losing control of his sense of self.

It was his sense of self that kept him grounded and in control of all that power. His morality, his sense of right and wrong, what was important, what was real, and what was not. He had so much potential to change everything around him, and it was critical he stay in control of his beliefs so his powers would never be wielded to do harm.

King Lionel was a ruthless man. The royal guard, while they had a reputation for honor and duty, still served directly under him and would become influenced by him. Having someone like King Lionel dictate to her son who to use his powers against... she shuddered to think of the potential destruction. This land had seen enough war and bloodshed.

Martha resolved that she and Jonathan would be more forthcoming with their apprehensions the next time they saw Clark. She knew that in a way, he was right. Clark's fate wasn't going to just drop into his lap one day. For him to make any use of his powers he needed to put himself out there and decide things for himself. As parents they had only meant to guide and protect him until the time was right, but perhaps they had failed to see when their protection turned into incarceration.

If he honestly wanted to join the royal guard, she and Jonathan would not be able to stop him. But he at least deserved to know the risks first.

And maybe, she hoped, her fears would be unwarranted. Perhaps he would be able to be stronger than King Lionel's influence. Perhaps he would meet someone while in the guard who could help reaffirm his beliefs. Someone who he could trust and keep him grounded when she and Jonathan could not be there for him. This she hoped for more than anything.

* * *

Clark sat upon the cliff side listening as his mother called for him. He was nowhere near Smallville, but his senses had become keen enough to hear his mother and father from even a hundred miles away. He had trained himself to always be attentive to them in case anything happened.

He honestly didn't mean to avoid his parents out of spite or anything. It was just difficult for him to face them right now. He knew they meant well but he still could not understand their perspective, and it frustrated him that they could not understand his.

He just wanted to do _something_. Wasn't defending the kingdom an honorable position? Metropolis had a long history of being under threat by many other kingdoms, but it was his home. By being in a position where he could directly protect the kingdom he would also be able to ensure the safety of everyone close to him: his parents, Chloe, Pete, Lana... He made up his mind. He had to show them that they would need to put aside their apprehensions and that they could have faith in him. Starting from today, he was going to take control of his fate.

Just then, he heard men screaming in the distance. There was a panicked beating of hoofs against the earth as frightened horses bolted away. Men groaned in agony and terror. Something was very wrong. Someone was under attack.

Without a second thought, Clark bolted to the source of distress and found himself in front of a wrecked carriage. All around him were men, collapsed and... smoldering? He looked up and saw a man standing above an unconscious Prince Lex Luthor. He could sense a menacing aura emanating from the man. Whoever he was, he surely intended to kill the prince.

But Clark wasn't allowed to let that happen.

"HEY!" Clark hollered, "Get away from him!"

Jeremy turned around slowly and glared at whoever dared interfere with his plans. He briefly wondered where this man had come from, but no matter. He would kill anyone who stood in his way all the same.

He rose his hand to the sky and prepared another lightning strike. Clark barely had enough time to leap out of the way as the bolt struck where he had been standing. This man had powers too?! First it was Sir Walt Arnold with heat vision, and now this man throwing lightning bolts?

Jeremy gaped in disbelief. Impossible! How could he have moved faster than his lightning strike? Just who was this mysterious man? Was he another being like him?

"Who are you?" he demanded, "Did you get your powers from the hailstorm also?"

"Hailstorm?" Clark furrowed his brows in confusion. Did he mean the one that occurred 20 years ago, around when he had been born? Hold on, was that the cause of these people appearing with powers? If so, then why had they never manifested before?

"I'll take pity on you if you stop interfering and leave, since you're like me. But if you stay I promise I won't miss twice." Jeremy charged up a lightning ball in his hand threateningly.

"I can't do that," Clark stood resolute, "I don't know what happened here but you've killed too many innocent men. I won't let you kill Prince Lex!"

"Then you'll die with him!"

The lightning crackled and hissed as it soared through the air towards its target. Clark found that while this man could hurl lightning bolts, his reflexes were still the same as a normal person's, which gave Clark enough time to read his movements and speed out of the way. He ran towards the man and tackled him to the ground. Jeremy coughed up blood at the impact. Shit, this bastard must have broken his rib.

Clark recoiled from the stinging sensation on his skin. Not only had he the power to control electricity, but his whole body was electrically charged. He needed to find some way to neutralize him. He focused his hearing desperately upon his surroundings.

Not too far away, he could hear a babbling brook. That was it!

Before the man had the chance to rise again, Clark grabbed him and sped towards the source of the water. He grit his teeth and tried to ignore the pain surging through him. Clark hurled him into the stream and Jeremy screamed out in agony as charges in his body began flowing every which way into his surroundings and then back through his body. It felt like he was being ripped to shreds as his cells were electrocuting themselves over and over again. The charges finally dissipated and Jeremy floated on the stream, unconscious.

Clark dove in and pulled him to shore, thankful that his body no longer seemed charged. He rushed back to the scene of the carriage wreckage and went to check for any survivors.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he found the prince still had a pulse. The man beside him who looked like a high-ranking minister was also alive. But the other guards were not so lucky. Clark clenched his jaw in frustration. If only he had been quicker he could have saved them too. He realized however that now was not the time to beat himself up and he needed to get Lex and his companion to help as soon as possible. He tore pieces from the wrecked carriage and pinned Jeremy beneath it, making a sort of makeshift prison to restrain him in the meantime. As far as Clark could tell, the man did not have super strength, so hopefully this would hold him for now.

Once satisfied Jeremy could not escape, Clark supported both Lex and Dominic on each of his shoulders and sped off towards the castle.


End file.
